


Silence of the lamb (that Papyrus should have been watching, damnit)

by Askellie (NadaNine)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Animal Death, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, the village au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 03:02:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15161090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NadaNine/pseuds/Askellie
Summary: Papyrus wanders into the woods after dark, and meets one of the creatures his Village is too afraid to even talk about.(SpicyHoney AU based on the movie, The Village, and entirely inspired by cheapbourbon's art on Tumblr!)





	Silence of the lamb (that Papyrus should have been watching, damnit)

**Author's Note:**

> Total credit for the idea and most of the set-up goes to the wonderful [cheapbourbon](http://cheapbourbon.tumblr.com/) and their [amazing headcanons](http://cheapbourbon.tumblr.com/post/174390789819/pssst-bourbon-plz-share-any).

If Sans hadn’t been so absurdly attached to the lost lamb, Papyrus would have given up his search after the first ten minutes. Their flock this year was plentiful enough that he doubted anyone else in the village would do more than scold him for his inattention, but when one of the ewes had died in childbirth, Sans had been the one to take ownership of ‘Fluffy’ when others might have simply put the creature out of its misery. Months of sleepless nights, bottle-suckling and attentive care couldn’t be so easily forsaken just because the forest was a little creepy.

Though little was an understatement. The forest was _utterly unsettling_ , especially right on the verge of twilight, where the canopy above him was blocking out the last dregs of sunset, leaving him fumbling through thick underbrush and overgrown game trails. He stumbled on a rock, swearing under his breath, and was on the verge of giving up despite the haunting promise of his brother’s devastated expression when he finally heard something: a distant bleating.

He paused in place, listening intently. The sound echoed jarringly between the trees, making it difficult to track the source. He had to move slowly, weaving back and forth to chase the wails that became louder and more desperate. The frantic edge to the sound put a tension in his bones, making every rustling of his footsteps feel clumsy and too loud. He tried not to let his imagination run away with all the things the Village elders had told him to be afraid of, forcing himself to move forward even as he instinctively tried to avoid any crackling leaves underfoot. He was so busy looking downward he almost missed the narrow cleft between the trees that opened up to a clearing that clearly held the source of the piteous crying, but when he looked up, the first thing he saw was red.

Red. The forbidden color. The color of danger and blood. The horror of it stopped him cold, his body immediately locking down in alarmed self-preservation, his dread thickening when he realised that the source of the red was _moving_. It was a tall, shapeless mound, its body swathed in layers that folded and draped in unnatural ways, leaving Papyrus unsure what was skin and what was cloth. Savage spines protruded from the crest of its back, and when it extended an arm the limb seemed unnaturally long with too many joints.

It wasn’t until he caught sight of the lamb crouched and crying, one leg caught and bloodied in a snare, that he realised what the red creature intended, but Papyrus’s own alarmed shout caught painfully in his throat. He couldn’t move, blink, or even breathe, completely immobilised and helpless to do anything as the shapeless creature raised its deformed arm and brought it down with force. There was a bone-cracking thud and a terrible squeal, followed by a devastating silence.

Distantly, somewhere beneath his shock, Papyrus absently noted he was going to have to tell his brother that Fluffy was gone. Sans was going to be _so_ upset...then it occurred to him that Sans would be even more upset if Papyrus ended up gone too, and that thought finally penetrated through the ridiculous animal instinct keeping him fixed in place. If the creature turned just a little, it would see him. Thankfully it was bending over Flu-...the lamb, faint sounds of wet tearing accompanying whatever it was doing to the poor creature.

As quietly as he could, Papyrus eased back a step, slipping behind the truck of the nearest tree. Carefully, he folded in the edges of his cloak to make sure the bright yellow fabric wouldn’t give him away should the monster glance in his direction. Then he took a moment to consider his options.

It might be safer to stay still and silent, and let the creature leave of its own accord, but the awful fleshy sounds it was making had Papyrus’s soul hammering painfully behind his ribs. He didn’t think he could bear to stay and listen to it messily devouring his brother’s pet, and what if it wasn’t satiated when it finished? All the myths and rumors described the forest’s inhabitants as otherworldly hunters, and Papyrus’s hiding place was hardly discrete. He’d only be making himself a convenient offering for the creature’s next meal.

But maybe while it was busy with its current prey, he could take advantage of its inattention. He tried inching back a step, unable to tear his eyes off the creature, and his inattention cost him. The small twig that snapped under his shoe might have sounded negligible in any other situation, but in the deathly silence that followed the lamb’s demise there was no other ambient noise to cover his mistake. The quiet crunch sounded as loud as a thunderclap. From the periphery of his vision, Papyrus saw the creature’s spiked mass shift, lifting as if it were scenting the air. He hesitated for only a moment, desperately praying for it to return to its meal, but when it started to turn towards him all sense and rationality fled completely in the face of terror.

He started to run, half-blinded by darkness and low-hanging foliage, too panicked to think to retrace his path or figure out which direction might lead him back to the Village. All he cared about was putting distance between himself and the hideous thing, pushing the limits of his long legs and wiry frame to sprint through the narrow paths between the trees as quickly as he could.

For a few seconds, he couldn’t hear anything but his own heavy tread and panicked breathing, and he thought he was safe. Any other predator would have stayed to defend its kill instead of chasing down new prey, but when he dared risk a glance backward he caught a glimpse of red behind him, alarmingly close. The fact that its chase was silent was even more terrifying than snarls or howls, and fear put more speed into his gait even as his lungs burned with desperate magic.

He wasn’t nearly as fit as Blue, but his legs were long and his wiry frame made it easy to vault over logs and between the underbrush. For a wild moment, he was absurdly proud of himself, and he wondered if maybe he could outpace the creature after all...only to suddenly feel his ankle catch on something unyielding, and suddenly all his momentum was propelling him straight towards the ground with a painful crash. His skull clipped hard against something -- a rock? A root? -- and an awful sound reverberated through his skull, drowning out everything; his vision, his terror and the fierce pressure in his chest.

For a few senseless moments, there was nothing but a faint sense of disorientation as his face pressed into the fresh forest floor. Then the pain hit, an incredible spike of agony piercing through his head, leaving him choking on a pitiful whimper. With effort he managed to rekindle his left eye-light, but his right remained dark and blinded. That fact should have concerned him more, but it seemed trivial to the knowledge that the creature was right behind him.

With a weak grunt, he tried to drag himself forward only to find himself bewilderingly stuck. A second attempt made a violent pain seize up his leg, stealing his breath and alerting him to a sharp, pinching pressure clenched tightly around his ankle. The fleeting, jagged memory of Fluffy flashed across his consciousness, and he belatedly realised what had happened.

It was another snare. He was caught, stunned, helpless, and before he could figure out how to orient himself to unpick the knots or call up his magic to free himself, a shadow fell over him and a heavy pressure weight down on his neck. It pressed his skull painfully into the dirt, and the sound he made -- fearful, wounded and pathetic -- would have been utterly mortifying if he hadn’t been thoroughly convinced that he was about to die.

Fuck, he thought, dimly, wildly. Sans really would be so upset. He desperately hoped Toriel would be willing to take care of his brother once he was gone.

A moment passed. An awkwardly long moment -- longer than Papyrus would have thought it should take for jaws to snap shut and take his head off, or claws ripping through his chest to tear out his soul. He was just starting to wonder what it was doing when the pressure on his neck shifted to his shoulder and a powerful tug forced him to roll over and face his killer directly, giving him the completely unwanted opportunity to see what the myths and gossip had only ever described in vague, uncertain glimpses.

His jaw parted, but his shriek of horror was caught behind his teeth as he stared into the creature’s animalistic face. It looked like it was made of bone, with an elongated snout and fanged, crooked teeth, but unlike his own face was...dead. Static. Greyed and chipped, corpse-like and terrifying, with deeply sunken sockets holding only faint crimson lights like distant torches. God, it was awful, but he couldn’t make himself look away from its terrible visage.

He’d rather have died without seeing it. He’d rather be dead than looking at it, staring right at the teeth that were probably about to sink into his throat. His bones rattled audibly, making him feel like he might shake apart before it even laid a hand on him...but bewilderingly, it didn’t. It only stared at him, its chest gently lifting in calm, even breaths in contrast to the way Papyrus’s ribs were heaving. The chase hadn’t even winded it; so much for his plan to outrun it. The realisation made him feel -- bizarrely -- slightly more calm. There had never been any hope for him. He was going to die, the red in his bones spilling out to dye the creature’s cloak an even darker shade. He only hoped it wouldn’t hurt too much. With a tight, tremulous breath, he lifted his chin slightly, offering the creature his throat for the cleanest possible kill. He thought he saw the distant red in its socket flare slightly with some unknowable emotion, but almost instantly it was gone...and then so was the creature. It moved with such smooth grace it was downright eerie, and between one blink and the next its weight was gone from Papyrus’s hips. It stood over him for a moment, looking down his body consideringly, and then with an effortless swipe of its arm the tight pressure on Papyrus’s ankle came loose as the rope of the snare was snapped. That done, it took a pointed step back and crossed its arms in a pose that seemed to suggest its impatience.

Pain and shock made Papyrus slow and stupid. It took several moments before he thought to scoot backwards, slipping clumsily on his cloak as he scuttled on his hands and pelvis. He made the mistake of trying to push with his legs as well, and gasped at the searing jolt emanating from the ankle that had been caught in the snare. There was clearly something wrong with it -- the lingering impression of the noose felt hot and weak, and everything in his foot felt numb -- but he pushed down the pain in favor of watching the creature just in case it was...what? Giving him another chance to run? Hoping for him to put up a better fight? He curled his arms in front of him defensively, magic pulsing in his remaining eyelight, but the creature just watched him silently, its stance alert but passive.

Papyrus could barely believe it. The creature was letting him go?

Apparently so, because it made no move towards him, giving Papyrus a long, uninterrupted look at it. Now that he could finally see it properly without the lens of fear clouding his vision, he could see that its body was startlingly humanoid. The shapeless bulk he’d observed from behind was just the folds of its cloak obscuring its perfectly ordinary proportions. The unnatural, additional joint he’d thought was part of its misshapen arm was actually just a club made of bone gripped in a normal five-fingered hand. Its face was still eerie, but aside from its mask-like stillness, the rest of the creature looked just like any other monster in his village.

(Didn’t they whisper, though, that _those who we do not speak of_ were all simple monsters once, before the forest changed them.)

He stared at it too long -- long enough to be considered rude, and certainly long enough that if it had intended any further harm, it could easily have taken advantage of his stupor -- but it occurred to him that it was also staring back at him with just as much intensity. They were equally fascinating to each other. The realisation made the situation feel much less disturbing, though no less bizarre.

When it moved, however, he flinched instinctively, wondering if perhaps he was being too optimistic about its motives, but it only straightened up and lifted its arm, index finger outstretched in an order that was perfectly clear without words.

_**Get out.** _

“Uh,” he stammered, still dazed but unspeakably grateful. His voice sounded too loud and unwelcome in the quiet of the forest, but his mouth always tended to ramble away when he was stressed. “R-right, um...thanks? For not eating me?”

Its posture shifted enough to suggest it was listening, but its deadened expression didn’t change. It felt like it was glaring at him, impatiently or dismissively, he couldn’t tell, but clearly it wasn’t pleased by his presence. It was time to leave before he wore out its patience.

He tried to smile at it placatingly. “Right, right. I’m just gonna...go then.”

Taking a deep breath to brace himself, Papyrus painstakingly dragged himself to his feet using the trunk of the nearest tree to support his efforts. His clumsy handholds threatened to slip, and he had to keep his injured socket clenched shut to minimize the disorienting swirl of the forest around him. Attempting to place his weight on his wrenched ankle made him hiss with discomfort, but after a few false starts he found a limping gait that would let him stumble from tree to tree, allowing him to make slow, halting progress. Hopefully that was enough to satisfy the creature until he could make his way out of its territory.

The true night was falling quickly, the last hues of sunset fading into the blues and greens of evening, but he thought it was only a hunch he wanted to believe that the creature had pointed him quite literally in the right direction. If it wanted him gone, surely it would be easiest to guide him back in the direction of the Village...assuming it even knew he was from there, or that it even cared. He hoped it did, because otherwise he was probably screwed. What little forestcraft he knew wasn’t nearly enough to navigate his way back in the dark, especially not while his skull was throbbing so badly the pain was almost blinding.

He briefly entertained himself wondering whether skeletons could get concussions. He didn’t have a brain to rattle like a fleshy creature would, but he was having unusual difficulty maintaining a coherent train of thought. Half a dozen times he found himself stopped, panting heavily without making any sort of conscious decision to do so. His senses were completely shot too, which was the only reason it could have taken him so long to realise the creature hadn’t been satisfied simply sending Papyrus on his way.

It was following him.

The first time he noticed it, he swore in shock, almost losing his footing as he flinched violently back from the menacing silhouette of red creeping through the trees. Though its face didn’t convey any emotion, he thought it looked distinctly unimpressed with his flailing as he gracelessly righted himself. He turned away, making a point of ignoring it as he fumbled further through the trees, but rather than leaving him to his ineptitude the creature moved with him, maintaining its distance even as it matched his slow, arduous pace. Clearly, it had no intention of leaving him alone, and although the disquieting nature of its presence was diminishing, it wasn’t exactly proving itself helpful either.

Papyrus sighed, feeling emotionally wrung out, but somehow still exasperated. It was possibly a suicidal move, but he couldn’t resist calling out to it. “Hey.”

It perked, skull tilting at the sound. The reaction was animalistic but oddly endearing.

“I appreciate you not eating me an’ all,” he slurred, the pain in his head making his jaw feel loose and clumsy. “But you don’t have to follow me like a creeper.”

Its sunken eyes seemed fiercely intent, making Papyrus wonder if it could understand him after all. At least it seemed to realise he was talking to it, but no response seemed forthcoming. It didn’t seem deterred either. Papyrus took another few steps, and as before, the creature followed behind him, keeping its set distance.

“What I mean,” Papyrus went on, finding some comfort in the sound of his own voice since it was the only familiar thing he could hold on to, “is that you can go away now. I don’t need an escort. ‘Specially not an ugly one like you.”

The insult didn’t seem to have any impact, so either it had a robust sense of self esteem or it really didn’t understand him. Papyrus hoped it was the latter, because he felt frustrated enough to confess, “You’re kinda making me nervous. Also, I think I’m lost.”

Not even saying it out loud could ease the apprehension that had been unfurling in his soul. He looked around again, hoping to see a clear and obvious trail, a distant light or anything that might point him in the direction of the village, but the growing darkness held nothing but faceless trees and obscuring foliage. The faint starlight above him wasn’t even enough to illuminate the path in front of him, making falling on his face a second time a very real and undesirable prospect.

“I’m really fucking lost,” he breathed, leaning heavily against the nearest tree, struggling against the invisible weight of exhaustion and uncertainty. He really needed to get back. His brother would be frantic, and his broken eye-light was really starting to worry him, but walking was painful and in the dark it might very well be dangerous. He wouldn’t even have kept at it as long as he had if not for the pressuring presence of the creature at his back, but fatigue had been steadily overtaking his concern for its watchful presence and with a groan he let his shaking knees fold beneath him.

He rested his head against the cool bark, letting the tree take the weight of his skull which had been feeling far too heavy for his vertebrae to lift. Deliriously, he called out to the creature, “If you’re gonna stick around...maybe keep the wolves from eating me? Or build a fire.”

He felt cold, which was both peculiar and faintly concerning, because skeletons generally didn’t feel distinct temperature changes unless it was the dead of winter. He gave a short shiver, then let out a sigh, curling around himself and letting his bones go slack, giving in the the fatigue. He’d just rest for a little while, until the pain in his head cleared up and he could think again. He thought the creature might finally leave now that he wasn’t giving it something to chase, but with his sockets closed he could hear it moving, pacing back and forth. Strangely, having the creature hovering nearby felt almost reassuring, like it was watching over him protectively.

Right before his consciousness faded out he thought he heard it coming closer, and even felt a fleeting pressure against his shoulder, but whether it was a curious poke or an attempt to rouse him, he wasn’t awake to find out.


End file.
